No Good Unpunished
by Bigsciencybrain
Summary: Veronica and Weevil share celebratory milkshakes after he gets out of prison, not knowing their lives are going to collide in a much darker way only days later.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **No Good Unpunished  
**Author: **Aeneas  
**Rating: **R (language, violence, death, attempted rape)  
**Summary: **Veronica and Weevil share celebratory milkshakes after he gets out of prison, not knowing their lives are going to collide in a much darker way only days later. (10,066 words)  
**Spoilers: **All of Season 2  
**Pairings: **Veronica and Logan are still together but not "onscreen".  
**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Rob Thomas and all the wonderful people who make I Veronica Mars /I possible.  
**Notes: **It's an odd fic. A lot more happens in the spaces between the words than in the words themselves. Despite my best attempts, it's Veronica-centric. Also, you can expect a follow-up that is Weevil-centric, but probably not until November.

Technically, it wasn't a lie.

Veronica Mars didn't lie to her boyfriends unless it was absolutely necessary. This didn't fall into either the absolutely or just barely necessary categories, but she managed not to look too guilty as she told Logan that she had few errands to run for her father. Boring stuff really; dropping off invoices and picking up those needed supplies like paperclips and file folders that kept a private investigator in business.

As it turned out, she didn't need a cover story because Logan and Trina had yet another marathon session with the Echolls lawyers and accountants to determine the split of the estate. That left her free and clear for the afternoon, with no one but Back Up to see her leave the apartment.

Angel actually smiled when he saw her enter the yard and nodded for her to follow him through the winding stacks of cars and spare parts. He didn't say much but that wasn't unusual. Near the back fence, she saw a beat up truck that looked as though it had one last gasp before it dissolved into rust, but what make the pathetic pile of bolts and rust important was the familiar shape of a motorcycle wrapped in a tarp lying in its bed.

Hector was leaning against the side of the truck, looking a little bit uncomfortable and a whole lot nervous. There was a noticeable chill between him and Angel. He cleared his throat before pulling a key out of his pocket and holding it out to Veronica. "I kept it. You know. Just in case."

"Very thoughtful of you. Keeping Weevil's key after driving his bike into the ocean." She snatched the key out of his hand.

"It wasn't like that. I didn't want to do that to him."

"Yeah, you're a real friend." She wasn't a fan of betrayal, regardless of who was on the receiving end, but took a deep breath and tried again without the hostility. It had been Hector's idea after all. "Thank you for telling us where the bike was, Hector."

"Least I can do. Weevil's still..." he trailed off under the weight of Angel's icy glare. With nothing more to say, he stuck his hands back into his jacket pockets and walked away.

"You okay alone, chica?" Angel asked once Hector was out of sight.

"Oddly enough, I have been to prison a few times. I can find my way." She accepted another set of keys, these belonging to the battered truck.

"The clutch sticks. And watch third gear, it sometimes causes trouble."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The inside of the cab was just as dirty and old as the outside and it smelled of rust and motor oil, which weren't the worst odors she could have imagined. She felt small behind the giant steering wheel and the shifter was not only archaic, it was almost too stiff for her to muscle into gear. By the time she nosed the old beast out of the junkyard, her teeth had nearly rattled loose from the chugging of the engine.

Once on the highway, the vibrating settled into a solid hum that acted as a pseudo massage if she was inclined to be a glass half full. Nearly an hour later, she found a parking spot toward the far end of the prison lot and braced herself for another visit to the Bighouse. It certainly wasn't the most fun and exciting way she could think of to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it felt right. It felt _good_. And she was pretty sure she could use all the good karma she could get.

The stern faced corrections facility assistant redirected her from the visitor's area to where she really needed to be. Strangely enough, her prison visits had never been to actually see someone get out of jail so she felt a little strange standing on the sidewalk beyond the fence gates. And she wasn't alone.

"Your man getting out today?" her only other companion asked between draws on her cigarette.

"Just a friend," Veronica answered. The woman's painted on eyebrows were a close match to the purple eye shadow and her dangling earrings were mesmerizing in the sunlight, almost as bright as her bleached out hair. Lacquered and rhinestone embellished nails looked strong enough to do some serious eye gouging.

"Sure, honey." She made some sort of noise that must have been the product of a one-night stand between coughing and snorting. "My man's been in for armed robbery. What about yours?"

"He's not," Veronica stopped, deciding it was futile. "Assault." At the sharp look from the older woman, she clarified, "not me. It was guy thing. You know men, tempers flare and fists fly. Next thing you know there's a sentence hearing and someone ends up in prison orange."

The woman nodded her approval, smoking curling out around the wicked nails as she exhaled. "You done right to stand by him."

Veronica shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the inevitably gnawing question of why exactly she was waiting for someone who wasn't her boyfriend to get out of jail. Did that fit under the standing by her man umbrella? Would she have waited for Logan if he were the one walking down the sidewalk toward the gate? Holding his hand during a trail for a murder he didn't commit was one thing, jail time he actually deserved would have been entirely different.

Of course, watching Logan was never the same as watching Eli with or without jail being involved. Logan didn't have the same intensity in the way he moved or that look in his eyes. He was a firecracker that burned hot and sudden once his fuse was lit, but Eli never stopped burning, he just managed to contain it. She could imagine him walking toward her with flames licking over and quivering beneath his skin. And then suddenly, he was standing in front of her in the same tank top and jeans he'd worn the day he'd arrived at Chino. The set of his jaw had only gotten harder with prison, his eyes colder and more intense.

"Can't say I expected to see you here. This your good deed for the day? Your random act of kindness those bumper stickers are always on about."

"Eli." Her voice died there because he'd flinched at the sympathy in her voice, probably hearing pity rather than compassion. The woman with the purple enamel nails was watching her expectantly. Forcing herself to smile, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dropped her voice to a whisper only he could hear. "Welcome back, Eli." He returned the hug hesitantly at first and then pulled her tightly against him, pressing his face against her neck.

Before she began to panic that the hug had gone on too long, he pulled away. "You smell like heaven, V."

"Funny. I don't remember putting any heaven on this morning. I'm more of a hellfire and brimstone kinda gal."

"Laundry detergent. I'd forgotten how good that smelled."

"Just try not to do too much sniffing, okay? I might start feeling like a hydrant or something. Come on. I bet you've missed chocolate milk shakes even more than fabric softener." She started toward the truck, waving a brief goodbye toward purple eye-shadow lady.

"You have no idea."

"You'll have to forgive the stylin' ride. It's a loaner while the Le Baron's in the shop." She pulled the truck keys out of her pocket and ignored his laughter when he realized which vehicle she was heading toward.

"Hope you're getting serious work done then."

"Angel thinks it's only a matter of time before the engine falls right out." She smiled at the look of surprise on his face. "Before you hop in, take a look in the back."

It required all the self-control she had in her entire being to climb behind the wheel and start the truck. She wanted to give him privacy to savor the moment of having his bike back, as rusted and water damaged as it was. Angel assured her that with a bit of polishing, make that a lot of polishing, and all new electrical work, it could be as good as almost new. The tarp rustled; she could see it moving in the rearview mirror. Her skin was practically breaking out in a rash with the exertion of not getting back out to see what he was doing, but she managed to stay in the cab until he climbed in.

"Hector tell you where it was?" he asked quietly.

"And he held on to this." She held out the key. "It's not much of an apology but from a guy? Trust me, that's huge. That's like standing outside your window with a boombox huge."

"Not my life anymore, V."

"Just thought you might need a hobby. Angel says it needs a lot of work." She waited for an answer until she pulled onto the highway, but decided that an hour of silence was going to be far too boring. "And it's not all about you, you know. Have you considered that I miss riding around on your big, old hog?"

"Don't you have some 09er boyfriend to follow around? Or did you manage to go through them all while I was locked up."

"You're welcome, Veronica, for picking me up from prison and for finding my motorcycle and convincing Angel to drag it out of the ocean,"she snapped angrily, stung by his attitude and by the guilty twinge over the truth behind it. Not willing to give him the satisfaction of being anywhere near _right_, she didn't mention her second-time-around with Logan.

"Guess I'll owe you," he scoffed.

"You can start by not being an ass."

He didn't respond for another fifteen miles. She focused on driving rather than how she could get the passenger door open and shove him out onto the highway. It was thoroughly ungrateful of him considering the long walk back home to Neptune. At the same time, his jabs were strangely comforting in their familiarity. What she didn't know was how far she could push him before he really started pushing back.

"Still think Plan B was worth it?" It was a rhetorical question so she didn't expect an answer. It wasn't exactly a fair question to ask at the tail end of a prison sentence either, but Veronica Mars had never shied away from the unfair questions.

"You telling me you didn't want Aaron Echolls dead after he walked? That it wouldn't have been worth it to you to make sure he got justice for what he did to Lilly. Tell me you weren't glad he got a bullet through his skull."

"It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same!" His voice rose slightly. "Just because you're screwing one rich kid after another, you think that makes you better than the rest of us down here in the gutter."

She jerked the wheel hard to the right and barely made the exit. Where exactly the exit was going, she hadn't bothered to look; she just needed to get off the highway before she was too angry to drive safely and killed them both. Of course, if she could think of a way to just crash Weevil's side of the truck, she might be tempted to give it a try. Instead, she made it into a convenient store parking lot before slamming on the brakes.

"Is there a good reason you're being a complete bastard? Cause if there is, I'd really love to hear it. I didn't come looking for a fight. I came to help you. Because I'm your friend, Weevil. Your _friend_."

He continued to look straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw working and his clenched fist tapping against the doorframe. A couple of times he looked about to break the silence with an explanation or an apology, but his jaw was closed tightly enough that she wondered if his teeth had fused together. "Can we...can you take me to the cemetery? When we get back."

"The cemetery?"

"I didn't get to go to my grandmother's funeral."

She cringed, her anger fading. "Weevil, I'm sorry. I completely forgot. I'm horrible."

"Yeah, well. We make a pretty good pair, don't we?"

"Matched set. Like a pair of salt and pepper shakers with roosters painted on them. Or cows, if you'd prefer cows."

The first hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "I'd rather stay away from country chic if you wouldn't mind."

"Flaming skulls?"

"Might be a little over the top."

"Obviously we can never decorate an apartment together." She finally pried her fingers off of the steering wheel. "Friends?"

"Do we have to get some sort of charm bracelet?"

"Nah. It'd just clash with the rest of your bling."

Twisting to the side, he raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "So the bit about the chocolate milkshake. Was that for real or were you just being a tease?"

"I never tease." She'd thrown the idea out there on a whim but it suddenly seemed like the perfect thing for a balmy fall afternoon. They didn't speak on the drive back to the highway entrance but it didn't feel as strained as before. The Dairy Freeze was just outside the Neptune city limits, still far enough away that she didn't have to watch her back for anyone who might recognize her. She could pretend she was just out for an afternoon drive with a friend.

Once they parked, she sent Weevil to claim a table on the patio and ordered two gigantic chocolate milkshakes at the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him tap his fingers on the table and avoid looking at anyone who walked by. It occurred to her that she probably should have done some research about dealing with someone recently released from prison. Until she learned to read his mind, chocolate milkshake bonding would have to do. Grabbing the shakes, she picked up a couple spoons and headed out to the table.

"One celebratory milkshake." She set down the shakes and took a seat across from him. "Plus, there's no hangover tomorrow and no risk of sexually transmitted diseases. Which is my way of saying I'm too cheap to take you out for an all weekend bash in TJ."

"This is better, believe me." Digging into the shake with a passion, he closed his eyes for a moment to savor the taste.

"They make fries here too."

"You tryin' to kill me? One thing at a time, one thing at a time." He slurped up another heaping spoonful. "What about you? College treating you good?"

"I'm still getting used to it. I opted not to live on campus; it's cheaper and that way I can still work for my dad." The blended ice cream was cold on her tongue and reminded her of eating ice cream on the beach with Logan. Pushing those thoughts away, she licked her spoon clean and kept going. "Right now I'm majoring in journalism but I'm thinking of shopping around for something else."

"Tired of digging up dirt on people?"

"It's the deadlines. One of my professors thinks that giving us a paper due by three in the morning is just a taste of the real life experience." Swirling her spoon absently, she watched him eat. "What about you? Got any big plans?"

"Court mandated community work. Car wash or some shit like that," he answered with resignation.

"Well, you like cars, right?"

He rolled his eyes skyward but managed a strained laugh. "Right."

Conversation petered out after that, lost amidst scoops of milkshake and sound of the world around them. There were questions she could be asking but it felt right to simply sit there and enjoy the sunshine. She was surprised at how good it felt to just _be_. He wasn't demanding that she entertain him, wasn't wearing her down with constant drama. Being quiet was not one Logan's favorite things and she found that she'd missed having someone to be silent with.

Once their shakes were gone, she asked Eli if he was ready to go and for just a moment, she thought he was going to say no. When he didn't, she realized that she wished he would have. Going back to Neptune meant going back to reality and the real world, on or off screen, was highly overrated.

xxx

"How was your day?" Keith Mars asked over his plate of leftovers.

"Same old, same old." Another look at her phone and Logan still hadn't called. It wasn't unexpected. She just hoped that he and Trina weren't doing any familial bonding that would end up as the front-page news.

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Trust me, it was boring college student stuff."

"I wasn't aware that boring college student stuff involved Eli Navarro."

She set her book aside and got up, crossing the small living room to lean against the kitchen island. He was a bit skittish about meeting her accusing stare. "Statement like that…a girl might think you were having her followed. Are you, Daddy Dearest?"

"An acquaintance saw you at the Dairy Freeze."

"Does this acquaintance have a name? Just so I know who I need to kneecap."

"I thought we'd talked about Eli."

Turning away, she headed back to the couch to gather up her textbooks and notes. This wasn't a discussion she'd wanted to have the first time, let alone rehash it over and over again. "You told me he wasn't part of my fabulous new college life or the dwindling number of my friends who don't have criminal records. All that good stuff."

"Not that you ever listen to a word I say, Veronica, but you're not in high school anymore. And I hate to sound cynical but there aren't a lot of options open to Eli, none of which are what I want you to be involved in."

She could feel his stare boring into the back of her head. "You can stop the guard dog routine, Dad. I was picking up a friend who needed a ride and who hadn't had a milkshake in six months. That's it, end of story. There's no dating, no bringing home to meet the fam, no picking out matching china. Absolutely nothing to worry about."

"If you come home with a tattoo..."

"You know it'll say I Heart Dad. Why are we even having this conversation?" Notes and books in hand, she stopped to wait for an answer.

He gave her his most winning campaign smile. "It's what dads do."

"You need a vacation." That was all she had to say about the situation so she left him to his dinner and retreated to her room.

Friendship with Weevil had perks she wasn't willing to give up just to sooth his paternal paranoia. Eli was one of the few people she knew she could count on when the chips were down, even if he was a pain in the ass more often than not. Maybe he wasn't part of her father's perfect world, but he was a part of hers and that wasn't going to change without a more compelling reason.

Halfway through her journalism paper, Logan still hadn't called and she was getting increasingly bored with the ethical implications of journalist-source confidentiality. Five thousand words were four thousand more than she needed to explain how she felt on the subject and her mind had other things to think about. There were cases to solve, midterms to pass, and the latest overprotective phase her father was going through. She stopped typing mid-sentence, frowning at the laptop screen.

The first few months, she'd chalked her father's behavior up to guilt over standing her up at the airport; then she'd blamed it on starting her first semester at Hearst. But now she was a month into classes and he was still asking for her every movement. It was subtle; just enough to make her wonder if there were more pictures of her with bulls-eyes on her face that she didn't know about. Whatever happened that day, whatever Kendall Casablancas said to keep him from taking their trip to New York, it was still lurking under the surface.

He'd never told her and she'd only asked once. The tone of his non-answer meant he'd just lie to her if she pursued the issue and he was changing the combination to his safe on a weekly basis now. She looked the other way because everything else was improving, but the end of her blind faith was rapidly approaching. If he had a good reason for wanting her to stay away from Weevil, then he'd better cough it up before she decided to test the fence for herself.


	2. Chapter 2

"Logan?" Whatever else Veronica might have been thinking about calling out were immediately forgotten when she recognized the willowy blonde seated on the sofa. She made sure there was a perfectly sweet smile on her face once she closed the door behind her and turned around. "Hannah. You're back."

"Hey, Veronica," Hannah said nervously, waving a little.

"How was boarding school?"

"More like boring school."

"And your dad doesn't know you're here? Which would be why you're not on your way back to plaid skirts and dorm room pillow fights?" Veronica glanced around for any indication of Logan or maybe a big sign explaining why she'd arrived to find Hannah Griffiths in his hotel room.

"Dad's cool now. He thought Logan killed that kid on the bridge, but now he knows it wasn't really Logan." Hannah smiled brightly, looking far too happy about that for Veronica's taste. "But it's okay. I mean, I know that you and Logan are back together and everything. And I'm not here to, you know, break you guys up. Just got back into town and wanted to see some old friends."

She looked sweet and innocent enough that Veronica almost believed her. "And did Logan happen to mention where he was going?"

"He and Trina went out for pizza and then we were gonna watch a movie. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

It wasn't. Logan hadn't returned her calls and hadn't left any messages; she hadn't heard a peep from him since sending him off to duke it out with Trina and the accountants almost a week ago. Squashing the wriggling jealousy at the pit of her stomach, she smiled again. "Actually, that is why I'm here. My dad asked me to run a few errands and then I've got all this homework. I really can't do the movie thing tonight. But if Trina's choosing, that's probably not my loss."

Hannah's face fell. "You're not leaving because of me, are you? Because I don't have to be here. I'm sure Logan would rather spend time with you."

"I really do have errands." She glanced at her watch without actually seeing it. "And I'd better get going. Tell Logan I'll stop by if I manage to carve some free time out of my schedule."

"Sure. Bye, Veronica."

It wasn't until she was standing in the elevator that her breathing resumed any attempt at normalcy. Only the bad musack playing softly heard her muttering about being stupid under her breath. The last thing she should be doing in the face of competition was running away. She should be digging in her heels and putting Logan on a leash if that's what it took. Taking a deep breath and giving her mental self a good shake, she decided that the proper course of action was to go home and spend a little extra time on herself. And when she came back to the Neptune Grand, she intended to look as stunning as Veronica Mars was capable of looking.

She narrowed her options down to two outfits on the drive home and was mentally matching accessories as she let herself into the apartment. Her phone dinged the second she dropped her purse on the kitchen island and she grinned as she answered it. "You'd better have roses waiting when I get back."

"I swear, calling you was the next thing on my list." Logan sounded concerned and a tad guilty. "It was Trina's idea and you know how her ideas usually go."

"Like high heels in fresh tar. It's cool." The wriggling thing her stomach twinged at the casual dismissal but she ignored it. He'd called, he'd explained, that was all she expected from him.

"So you're coming back? Hannah said you had errands?"

"They won't take long. And I needed a shower anyway." She glanced around for anything her father might have left on the island that needed to be taken care of. One of these days, Logan was going to call her on the _errand_ excuse and she didn't want to be caught unprepared. There were a couple deposit envelopes with the Mars Investigations logo and the name of their bank printed in bright ink. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her purse. "And I was serious about the roses."

"What color and how many?"

"Red," she laughed. "And you'd better have enough to redecorate."

"Done." When he paused, she could hear Trina and Hannah laughing in the background. "You're sure you're coming?"

"Save some pizza for me," she said lightly before pulling the phone away from her ear and disconnecting. If luck was with her, Hannah would end up keeping Trina and Logan from clawing at each other and by the time Veronica arrived, Trina would be pleading headache as she exited stage left.

She scrawled a note to let her father know she'd taken care of the week's deposits and hurried out the door. Somehow it felt less like lying if she actually did run an errand. This was the new and improved Veronica after all. The Veronica whose reputation would actually hold up in court without sounding like the lawyer was airing someone's dirty laundry. No one had ever blamed her for Aaron Echolls' acquittal, at least not to her face, but she was still grateful she hadn't had to see Duncan's expression that day.

With ten minutes to closing time, she slid into a parking space and was out of the car almost before the tires stopped. Pulling out the envelopes, she frowned when she saw that none of the deposit amounts had been filled out. While she fumbled through her bag for a pen, she noticed the writing scrawled on the side. It looked like a name and today's date.

"Get on the floor!" A voice screamed at her.

Fingers frozen around her pen, she looked up straight into the barrel of a shotgun and her heart nearly stopped. The man was easily a foot taller than her, broad shoulders, dressed completely head to toe in black with a black mask concealing even his eyes. Someone grabbed her roughly from behind and shoved her to the floor, a boot pressing down between her shoulder blades to keep her from moving. Gloved hands reached down to pull her bag away, rifling through it and pulling out her taser before tossing the bag back onto the floor.

She winced and tried not to panic, covertly trying to move enough to get a good look around the room. The rest of the customers and staff were on the floor, with one frenzied looking teller trying to meet the robbers' shouted demands. Two pairs, no three, of heavy black boots marked the criminals and from the lack of blood, it didn't appear they'd started shooting yet.

"Come on, man. You got enough! Let's go!" the man with his foot on her back shouted.

"We go when I say!" his partner yelled back before turning back to the teller and waving the gun in her face. "Hurry up!"

"The police are gonna be here! Come on!" The boot tread dug a little harder into her back as he turned toward the front of the bank. Sure enough, there were sirens in the distance.

Veronica felt slightly relieved that at least one of them didn't think a shootout at Neptune Bank was a good idea. All she had to do was not piss off anyone with a gun and keep her face to the floor. Her father couldn't blame her for this one; there was no way she'd known that she was walking into an armed robbery. The envelope was still clutched tightly in her hand and the scrawled handwriting seemed to come into focus for the first time. _Layla Dobbins. Teller. Oct. 23._

She risked moving her head enough to peer at the bank staff lying on the floor and one potential _Layla_ stood out. A brunette with her hair pulled tight into a bun chewing her gum a little too casually. If this was an inside job and Ms. Dobbins was their gal, assuming that her father hadn't written those words purely by chance, then it would explain why the Neptune Sheriff's Department was actually on their way. The gloved hand reached down and yanked the envelope from her hand.

"Shit."

"What's wrong?" the third robber asked. That one sounded much more nervous than the other two and she was willing to bet his gloves hid a white-knuckle grip on his shotgun.

"We gotta get out of here now! The cops are already fucking here!"

"What're you talking about?"

"Just trust me."

"Alright." Hauling the bag now stuffed with bills up over his shoulder, the gunman waved toward the door. "Bring the girl. Might need a hostage."

"Bad idea, man."

The gun leveled at the man holding her down. "Do it. And the rest of you, when the cops show up, tell 'em she'll get her pretty little head blown all to bits if they come after us."

Veronica was too stunned to do more than stumble as he jerked her up onto her feet, his hand like a vise around her wrist. It felt like he was about to break her arm, twisting it behind her and pushing her ahead of him. As they burst out of the front doors, blinking against the sunlight, a dark green SUV screeched to a halt in front of them. She almost tripped stepping into the street, seeing flashing lights out of the corner of her eye an instant before the sirens began to wail. Her captor wrapped one around her waist and nearly tossed her into the back seat. Climbing in after her, he kept his hand firmly on the back of her neck, forcing her head down against her knees.

More squealing tires, the police sirens were loud enough to be ear-piercing even through metal and glass; she wrapped her arms around her knees and prayed to anyone or anything that this wasn't going to the day that Veronica Mars finally used up all her lives.

xxx

"We lost them," Sacks said apologetically, a little out of breath from his jog down the sidewalk to the crime scene perimeter.

Sheriff Lamb glanced at Keith Mars quickly, almost sympathetically. "Put out an APB and call Border Patrol. They'll probably head for Mexico. We'll catch them."

Keith nodded, his gaze and his thoughts either a million miles away or focused entirely on the purse clutched tightly in his hands. "Which one's Layla Dobbins."

"Brunette at the end." Lamb motioned toward the woman.

"I'd like to be there when you question her."

"Look--"

"It's the least you can do after you ignored information that allowed an armed robbery to take place," Keith interrupted with icy fury. "My daughter was forced, at gunpoint, into that getaway car because you did nothing."

Bristling visibly, Lamb straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes into a mocking glare. "If your information had been accompanied by any sort of actual proof, I would have listened to you. I don't have all day to follow up on a bad dream you had last night."

"Layla Dobbins is the key. She's the inside man," Keith continued as though he hadn't heard a single word.

"Don't you mean woman, sir?" Sacks asked. His gaze dropped under the withering look from Sheriff Lamb. "You want me to take her down to the station?"

"Why don't you do that? Make her sit for a while. Maybe she'll confess." Lamb hesitated briefly when he turned back to Keith. "If you don't mind, I've got a crime scene to process. You want to catch these guys, let us do our jobs."

"You know where to find me," he answered coldly.

Sacks waited for Keith to leave before stepping closer to Lamb. "Do you think they'll hurt her, sir?"

Lamb shook his head. "I'm not that lucky."


	3. Chapter 3

It might have been Mexico.

Veronica couldn't tell the difference between Mexican dust and Southern California dust. She'd been blindfolded, gagged, and bound to a wooden chair that shifted unsteadily beneath her weight. _Where_ was a very good question but the only road map she had was her own fuzzy memories of how many times her shoulder collided with the car door. That left her fourteen left turns away from the bank with long stretches of straight and nearly twice as many right turns in between. Add all that up and she had exactly no idea of where she was.

There was water dripping in the background, a leaky faucet or showerhead, and the smell of mildew emanating from the carpet under her feet. She'd guessed on the carpet when her toes hadn't made any noise tapping on the floor. It squished a little too. It was very scientific, this method of hers.

Trying to figure out where she was kept her from thinking about what was going on in the next room, what she could barely hear through the wall and closed door. They were trying to decide whether or not to kill her.

At least one of them was voting for no. He apparently had the brains of the group because prison for murder sounded worse to him than prison for armed robbery. Of course, as the one with the loud mouth pointed out, he already had one murder under his belt. That didn't make Veronica feel any better. Loud Mouth wanted her out of the picture one way or another, but the One With Brains was trying to convince him there was no way Veronica could identify them and they'd be long gone by the time the cops found her. That left Nervous Guy as the swing vote and he wasn't saying much of anything.

Time passed, doors opened and closed, and footsteps paced back and forth in the other room. They'd stopped arguing about putting a bullet through her skull but she was pretty sure that didn't mean they'd decided not to. As far as she could tell, the plan was to lay low and wait.

It wasn't until she'd sat there long enough that her body was achingly stiff despite shivering against the cold and she really, really had to pee that she began to lose her optimism. She knew the statistics; the more time passed, the more likely it was that they'd be fishing her body out of the ocean.

The sound of the door opening jerked her to attention, every muscle tensed in anticipation of the end, and the sounds of late night news filtered in from the other room. She tried to swallow against the gag, the aroma of pizza making her mouth water.

"What're you doing, man?" Loud Mouth shouted.

"She's gotta eat, asshole," the One With Brains snapped back. He sounded vaguely familiar when he wasn't shouting, but then again, she'd been listening to them bicker for hours so she'd probably be hearing their voices in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

"No, she don't. You plannin' on having a little fun with her? Cause I wouldn't mind gettin' a piece of that."

"Fuck you."

The door slammed shut, muting both the news broadcast and the raucous laughter. She was focused so intently on trying not to panic that she jerked violently when something warm brushed against her cheek.

"I can't untie you," he whispered close to her ear and now she was certain she _knew_ that voice. "I'm gonna take off the blindfold first. If you promise not to scream, I'll take the gag out."

She nodded quickly, wanting to see his face and the room she was in. A click turned on the lights and even before the blindfold was gone, she was squinting against the harsh brightness. Blinking and trying to focus, the first thing she saw was a plate with two slices of lukewarm pizza and a can of Coke. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of food. Twisting her head to the side, she blinked the image of her captor into focus and suddenly all thought of food was gone.

This could not be happening. It couldn't be real. Her world was small and terrifying enough and now it was crashing down around her in ways that couldn't possibly be real. Aching muscles faded against the metaphysical aching of realizing that someone she trusted had kidnapped her. Now it all made sense. The deposit slip, her father's admonishments, and exactly how the guy who'd left boot marks in her back knew the Sheriff's department was mere seconds away from the bank. Her stomach twisted, making her nauseated.

Weevil held one finger up against his lips, shaking his head sadly. His voice was so low that she could barely hear him when he spoke. "If Jack thinks you know who I am, he will kill you."

Suitably terrified, she nodded once and waited patiently for him to undo the gag. Her jaw ached and her eyes were watering from pain and shock.

"Why?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Cause I'm a fucking idiot, V." His eyes closed for a second, lashes lowered and dark with shadow against his cheeks. There was fatigue written in every line of his face and a little bit of worry too. She wondered if that was for her or for himself. When he pulled away, he reached for the plate and picked up the first piece with an apologetic look in his eyes, holding it out for her to take a bite.

Even room temperature, it might have been the best pizza she'd had in her life. Maybe the odds of it being her last pizza made the greasy cheese taste better. She only got tomato sauce on her chin once and looked directly at the floor as Weevil wiped it away with his thumb. The Coke was more of a challenge and by the time she finished, she needed to find a bathroom more than ever.

Glancing around, she decided that her prison was a closet masquerading as a bedroom. There was a twin mattress covered by a stained comforter in one corner, a lamp that had probably resided on her chair had been tossed onto its side and looked forlorn against the dated brown shag carpet. Strips of wallpaper had been peeled away to reveal flaking plaster and only a bare bulb shone above her. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she wondered why such a little thing had seemed so bright. She exhaled with relief when she saw the familiar shape of a sink and medicine cabinet through a darkened doorway.

"Tell me that's a bathroom, because unless you want to run out and buy a pack of Depends." She let him fill in the blanks.

"Just keep quiet," he sighed.

She was surprised that he made sure to hold her wrists firmly even after he untied them from the chair, ensuring that she was still captive. Easing one and then the other around to her lap, he tied them tightly together before moving to untie her ankles. Free from the chair legs, he tied the rope together with only enough slack to let her take baby steps. Now she was getting annoyed. "Where do you think I'm gonna go, Weevil?"

He winced at the sound of his name and glared up at her. "Figured you'd try to kick me or scratch my eyes out."

"I knew you were the one with a brain," she ground out through clenched teeth.

Once she was free to stand, she nearly fell over when she tried. He helped her hobble into the small bathroom, closed the door behind them and turned his back toward her after only a moment's hesitation.

"Tell me you can wait outside," she said with disbelief.

"How do I know you won't climb out the window?"

"I can barely walk," she seethed. It didn't seem to sway him.

Truth be told, she hadn't even noticed the window, so focused on the pain in her limbs and getting to the toilet. Gritting her teeth against the humiliation, she promised herself silently that she would kick his ass into next week once this was all over and clumsily unzipped her jeans. She had to give him credit for not moving a muscle or laughing in the awkward not quite silence. Her cheeks were burning and stress-induced laughter was bubbling up in her throat.

Determined not to end up giggling like a moron, she managed as well as she could with her hands tied, shaking with the relief of the ordeal being over when she zipped back up and flushed.

"I hate you," she told his back wearily.

"Sticks and stones, V." He smiled a little over his shoulder before opening the door and helping her hobble back into the room. At least he spared her the chair again, waving her toward the bed. When she lay down, he took out the slack between her ankles and retied her hands behind her back.

"Weevil?" she asked when he picked up the gag and blindfold, her voice shaking. "Do you think they're going to kill me?"

He lifted her head up gently to slip the blindfold over her eyes. "I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you, I swear on my abuela's grave."

"Does that include you?"

His hands paused, warm against her face, and he brushed her hair behind her ear before tugging the gag back into place. "I'll get you out of this, Veronica. Just gotta trust me. Try to get some sleep."

xxx

A nightmare of being hunted by wolves woke Veronica up from a restless sleep. Someone's breath was hot against her throat and she went rigid when she realized that hot, sweaty hands were pawing at her clothing. Twisting away, she brought her knees up hard to connect with whomever, or whatever, was attacking her. She hit something solid, not sure if it was a shoulder or a head, and started screaming against the gag. It was pathetic as far as screaming went but better than silence

"You little bitch," a male voice snarled.

Her head jerked painfully when she was struck across the face with what felt like a fist, seeing stars against the black of her blindfold. She managed to keep twisting away, evading hands she couldn't see, and kept screaming mutely until she thought she'd pass out.

"Get off of her!" That was Weevil's voice and then the hands were gone. The crunch of chair legs buckling and snapping was followed by a heavy thud.

"What the fuck?" Loud Mouth – _Weevil said his name was Jack_ – demanded angrily.

"What if someone heard her? You're making too much goddamn noise," Weevil hissed. He was none too gentle when he pulled Veronica away from the wall, ordering her roughly to keep quiet. She feigned obedience and fell silent.

"Jesus, no one heard her. What's your problem, man?"

"My problem is you thinking with your dick instead of your head. We got cops on us and they probably got your girl by now."

Jack grunted and tossed something, probably a piece of the demolished chair, at the wall. "No way. Layla's probably just lying low. Like us."

"Then why ain't she here yet?" Weevil countered. "Been over six hours."

"She'll fucking be here."

Veronica felt Weevil move away from the bed and almost wished she could see what was going on. Knowing that it would probably be much worse than she was imagining, she curled up as tightly as she could and tried to think happy, fluffy, knowing the bastard was going to rot in jail thoughts.

"She'll be here," Jack repeated stubbornly. "Don't see why you're protecting this girl anyhow. Now that I think on it…seems a bit strange. I might start wondering just what's going on in that head of yours."

"What's going on is me not wanting to go to jail because you couldn't keep it in your pants." She was amazed that Weevil managed to sound completely calm.

Soft footsteps moved over the carpet and Jack's voice was further away when he spoke again. "You better watch your back, boy. I cut you in on this deal as a favor--"

"Don't need your favors," Weevil growled.

"Hey, guys!" the third voice, Nervous Guy, whispered frantically. "Cop car just drove past real slow."

"So?" Jack snorted.

"That's the second time he's done it."

Weevil cursed low and in Spanish, mostly words she didn't understand. "Fucking told you they got that dumbass girlfriend of yours."

"You shut your mouth."

"We gotta go. Now," Weevil ordered sharply.

"What about her?" Nervous Guy asked.

"Leave her. The cops'll find her soon enough."

"No way," Jack argued. "If they've made us, I want leverage."

"She's not leverage, asshole. She's a federal offense. Kidnapping? Ring any bells?" Weevil was moving and she could hear shuffling, like clothing being shoved into a gym bag.

"You want to stay here with her, that's fine. But I'm leaving and I'm taking her with me."

Metal clicked against metal; Veronica didn't have to guess at what that sound was. This Jack, or whatever his name was, was the worst kind of stupid. He was the kind of stupid that lit his hand on fire just to see if it would burn and then ended up burning the house down. Left to his own devices, she had no doubt he'd remove his sorry ass from the gene pool. Until then, she just had to pray that Weevil could talk some sense into him.

"Fine. But you keep your fucking hands off her," Weevil relented grudgingly. "Throw everything in the car, I'll take care of her."

"Put her in the trunk. Don't want to risk nobody seeing her."

Cringing, she only managed to keep from screaming by counting back from one hundred very slowly. Weevil mumbled an apology against her hair when he picked her up and carried her through the darkened house. She resisted the urge to squirm and possibly kick him. Even as gently as he laid her in the trunk of a car, she still bumped painfully against sharp metal edges.

"It's an old car," he whispered. "Trunk won't be airtight, but try to breathe shallow. I'll think of something."

A desperate whimper slipped out before she could swallow it. The trunk slammed above her and left her in darkness that smelled of motor oil and gasoline. This was it; she really was going to die. Alone, in the darkness, miles away from her bed and everyone she loved.

The sound of the exhaust was a raging tornado through the metal beneath her and the bumping of the tires jostled her back and forth, new bruises forming with every crack in the road. She prayed for sirens, for anyone to see the car and wonder about its driver, for her father to have cracked Layla like a nut and be on his way to save her. What if Lamb hadn't let her father talk to the crooked teller? What if he'd insisted on doing the interrogation himself? She'd be dead for sure by the time Lamb managed to solve a crime.

Forcing herself to calm down and take slow, shallow breaths only put her fear at simmer instead of boil. She needed to _do_ something. Very slowly, she began to feel around the trunk as far as she could reach. There was a toolbox; that's what kept jutting into the back of her thighs. Her fingers fumbled with the latch but couldn't flip it over with the rope still tight around her wrists.

She twisted and pulled, gradually working the bottom loop of the rope further down her hands. If she could get it to slip over her fingers, she could loosen the next and the next. She'd still be locked in the trunk of a moving car, but at least she could dig around for a weapon.

Halfway through her rope wrangling, she got stuck at a knot and silently cursed a blue streak at Weevil. It wouldn't have killed him to give her a little slack. Enough to get free, definitely cause trouble, and possibly get them both killed. That, of course, was why he hadn't. He knew her. She stopped moving and closed her eyes to force back the sudden tears. Whether it was the pain in her shoulders from being tied up or the helpless despair, she wasn't sure.

The crack of a gunshot sent her heart racing and in the next moment she was crashing head first into the side of the trunk while tires screeched beneath her. Twice more she bumped across the rough carpet, crying out when the toolbox slammed into her side, before her back collided with the side of the trunk hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.

Then there was silence.

It stretched out interminably, that same silence from her nightmare where she'd been stranded in the middle of the woods with nothing but whispering trees above her and the hunger of a wolf pack behind her. She could run and run, hearing nothing but her own heartbeat, and still never get far enough away to escape the snapping jaws waiting to tear her into ribbons.

Suddenly frantic, she began working at the rope around her wrists with all the determination she could muster. Her skin was slick from sweat and her skin was raw by the time she wrenched one hand free.

Footsteps.

She froze, unable to move or even breathe as they came closer and closer to the back of the car. A key turned in the lock, grinding against the mechanism before it caught and released. She kept her hands behind her back, balled tight into fists just in case. Faint light seeped through her blindfold.

"Veronica?" Warm hands brushed against her face, tugging away the blindfold and gag.

Almost sobbing with relief, she grabbed onto Weevil's shoulders and held on as tightly as she could. He pulled away to take her hands in his and inspect the rope burns on her wrists, shaking his head with exasperated amusement. "You even know the meaning of patience?"

"Very funny," she said hoarsely. Her lips and throat were dry as the desert around them. Where exactly had the desert come from? "Where are we?"

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and before Weevil could answer her, Jack tackled him and the two men hit the ground snarling. The sound of fists meeting flesh spurred her into action and she clawed at the rope around her ankles, tugging at the knots until they finally gave way. Ignoring the protests of her stiff muscles, she scrambled out of the trunk and grabbed the first good-sized rock she could find.

"Hey!" she screamed as she hurled the rock as hard as she could toward Jack's back.

He yelped when it hit him between the shoulder blades and stopped hitting Weevil long enough to glare over his shoulder. "You bitch!"

She reached for another rock.

The gunshot made her jump. Fingers still wrapped around the rock, she stared at the tangle of limbs and waited for one of them to move. Jack shifted awkwardly and then fell away as Weevil pushed his dead weight to the side. There was blood on his face and sprayed down the front of his t-shirt in gruesome abstract. The gun in his hand hit the dirt with a thud.

They stared at each other, both turned honey and crimson in the bright desert dawn. Her feet started moving without thinking about where they were going. She met him half way, grabbing onto him as her knees buckled. Locked together, they sunk to the ground and held on as the world kept spinning. She was sobbing and swallowing down great gulps of air. His shoulders were shaking under her arms; she knew there would be tears mixed the blood and sweat on her skin.

When the sun had pulled itself completely up over the horizon, he slowly let go of her, eyes a little too bright. "You gotta go."

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"Better if you don't know."

"Tell me what you're going to do."

He didn't answer her. Helping her back to her feet, he guided her back to the car and picked up the rag that had served as a gag. Gently, he wiped away the blood that had transferred to her skin. "Sorry about the shirt."

"I didn't like it anyway," she responded numbly.

"Got a spare if you want."

She followed him around to the side of the car and he didn't stop her. The sight of Nervous Guy, now with an unmasked face and eyes that were far too vacant, nearly sent her tumbling to the ground again. Blood had turned dark around the bullet hole in his chest.

There was more blood on the dashboard, on the seats, sprayed over the windows. The windshield was a tangled web of cracked glass. Her fingers shook as she accepted the cotton t-shirt Weevil handed her and she hurried away from the blood as quickly as she could. Stripping off her own t-shirt, she pulled the warm fabric down over her head and wished it could take away the chill that was settling into her bones.

"We passed a town about five miles back. That way." He pointed down the road. "Call the cops as soon as you get there."

"What's going to happen to you?"

"I need to buy some time…need your help to do it."

"Eli."

His hand was warm and rough at the same time, pressing against her cheek. There was a smile on his lips, an enigmatic, unfathomable smile that she would wonder about for the rest of her life. And then his lips were pressed against hers in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Wavering precariously when he pulled away, she caught his hand and kept it pressed against her face. This was the end. The point of no return, no going back, and never having the chance to ask him why. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes; she brushed them away impatiently. "Five miles?"

"Stick to the road. I want you to run. Fast as you can, as far as you can."

She nodded, taking him at his word because this was _it_. Any more words and she'd have to say goodbye. She hated goodbyes.

"No matter what happens, you keep running."

Nodding again, she let go of his hand and took a step back. She knew he was going to watch her until she was out of sight, just in case she decided to turn around. Taking a deep breath and crossing her fingers that her legs would hold her, she turned away before she could change her mind and started running.

She ran until her lungs were burning and her legs were wobbling unsteadily, stopping to bend over and gasp for breath. The car and the embankment it had collided with were merely specks in the distance now. She jumped involuntarily when two more gunshots echoed through the still morning air. Through sheer force of will, she managed to keep her feet moving away from the crash. Moments later, she heard what couldn't be a gunshot and when she stopped to look back, there was an angry, black cloud of smoke mushrooming up into the sky.

Dragging her eyes and her heart away from the pillar of smoke and death, she turned her face back toward the horizon – _home_ – and ran.


	4. Epilogue

"Just a few more questions." Sheriff Lamb glanced warily toward Keith Mars, knowing instinctively that crossing the line and pushing Veronica too hard would be a mistake he'd live to regret. "How did you get out of the trunk?"

Veronica's face was pale and her hands wrapped around the mug of tea in a vise grip. She stared at the wall over his shoulder, never looking at him but never looking anywhere else either. "I heard a key turning and heard it open. I was still blindfolded so I didn't see who opened it. Someone reached for me, I pulled away. Then I heard…it sounded like two men fighting. And a gunshot."

"You didn't hear any names? Or recognize their voices?"

"I only heard one of them shout anything. I think his name was Jack. It took me a while to get my hands free." Pulling her arms in, almost as if she was trying to hide the bandages on her wrists, she finally looked down at her tea. "When I climbed out of the trunk I saw two men lying on the ground. Jack and a guy I didn't recognize. I thought they were both dead. I started looking for Weevil."

"Take your time, honey," Keith told her softly.

She took a sip from the mug before continuing. "When I went around the side of the car, I saw…I saw…" Her eyes got bright and she pulled a hand away from the mug, pressing her knuckles against her lips. "There was blood everywhere. And I just ran."

"Were you sure it was Eli Navarro?"

Nodding stiffly, she took a deep breath. "The tattoos. We had a class together senior year. I remember he had the word _cash_ on his right forearm." She turned away, tears sliding down her cheeks despite her attempts to brush them away.

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his chest. "Are you sure this is necessary, Don?"

"We weren't able to make a positive I.D. on the second body any of the usual ways so your daughter's the next best thing. The shotgun blast made dental records invalid and the fire burned up everything else. We wouldn't want the Navarro family to bury the wrong body, would we?" He managed not to let his personal suspicions creep into his voice. As far as he was concerned, Veronica Mars had already helped one criminal escape charges and he wasn't going to put it past her to do it again.

"In that case, I think you have all the answers you need." Keith's tone made it clear that the discussion was over. "The third party, Mario Lamont, is unaccounted for, as is the money from the robbery. I'd say it's pretty cut and dried."

"I'll let you know if we have any more questions." He managed a tight smile as they left the interrogation room, staying in his chair and glaring at the tape recorder that he was pretty sure held only more of her lies and manipulations. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the fact that he knew Marcus Lamont didn't have the brains to stage his own death, but he was willing to bet it wasn't Eli Navarro's body they'd be laying to rest beside Letty's grave.

Lamb had hoped to get Veronica away from Keith, but he could tell that wasn't going to happen. As loath as he was to take her version of events for the truth, he didn't have much choice unless he wanted to raise all hell. Especially since she was Veronica Mars, the brave young woman, and media darling, who survived an armed robbery and the following bloodbath when the criminals turned against each other. He'd heard they were going to make a movie about her, starring Scarlett Johansen. That further cemented the bitter fact that Neptune would forever have the mark of _Mars_ all over it.

He really had to get out of this town.


End file.
